"But it's not fair! I don't have a choice."
The complaint echoed in the cavernous space.
A grey man, with grey hair, grey face, grey shoes and grey caftan replied, "You've always had a choice, Subject. The scheme of life is governed by choice. While there may be the appearance of randomness...in the end it is always a chosen path that leads to a particular consequence."
"But, these babies...what kind of life will I have, no matter which one I choose? They are in the Three Strikes ward. They have no chance at a decent life."
The two men regarded a sea of docile infants, all of them with eyes closed, lips pursed. The infants lay as though in a perpetual slumber. The babies waited for a spark of life to infuse their bodies.
The Grey Man responded with flat affect.
"The baby you choose to animate--choose--will not have a predetermined path. Only specific circumstances of its birth are predetermined. It is what you choose to do with those circumstances that will guide the course of the infant's life, of your life. Your actions will bring you, at the end of that life, here--in front of the three strikes ward, or there--in front of the one strike ward."
"But I didn't know. It's not fair. If I had known, I would have behaved differently. I would have made different choices."
"Ahh...you address clearly the essence of your free will challenge. The moral compass must be guided not by fear of consequence, but by a desire to do good, to have a positive effect in the world."
The Grey Man continued.
"When you began your last incarnation, you stood in front of a ward that had a One Strike sign over it. There was great opportunity. The one strike that faced the baby you chose then, was greed. This was the trait you were challenged to overcome, this was a trait you did not resist, but indulged. And so you are here today. You chose."
"Is it wrong to have ambition? To provide for my family? To want to achieve, to get ahead? Are these not qualities that have led to the advancement of the human race?"
The Grey Man cast a grey look at his charge.
"Ambition, yes. Ambition without regard to others, that's another thing."
The Grey Man pointed to a blank space over the babies' heads. A series of images appeared.
There he was, the Subject, collecting rent in one of his many buildings. He remembered that day. The Giffords, family of four children. A hard luck story. The woman was crying...he'd forgotten that.
"Just give us a week," she pleaded. "My brother, he said he was sending money."
The Subject turned to the Grey Man. "You know, it's a business. If I don't get the money, I can't pay my bills. Then I can't keep the building..."
"You had five buildings, and this one was doing fine. Missing rent from a single renter wouldn't have cost you the building. Even if you had to give up every building, still you would have been a wealthy man."
"But it's a business. You can't expect people to just get away with not paying rent..."
The Grey Man said, "Watch."
The Gifford family appeared again, with suitcases and bags, on the street. They carried their possessions to one corner. It was dark. A police officer came and told them to move on. They moved on. Another officer came and asked for their ID. He called them vagrants, told the woman she could not keep her children in the street like that.
The scene changed. A courtroom. The woman wailed as her children were taken. It wasn't safe for them in the streets.
The screen over the infants' heads went blank. The Grey Man spoke.
"You would have lost a few dollars in rent. The Giffords lost their home, their family. They were split up, splintered, and were never together again."
"How could I know? I was just a businessman. I did what anyone would do". The Subject was desperate. "If I had that chance again, I would let them stay. I didn't know."
"You didn't want to know. All you wanted was the money. There was never enough money to satisfy your one overriding trait...greed."
The Grey Man turned to the Subject and adopted a tone of hard finality.
"We've stood here long enough. You must choose. Which baby will be the vessel for your next existence? Consider carefully. Your destiny, your fate for the next incarnation, rests on this decision."
The Subject's eyes were wild. Three strikes. What might they be? Would there be a devastating disability? Poverty, abuse, war? Would there be bullying, indentured labor, even slavery? What could he do in such circumstances?
The Grey Man watched with cold eye. Then his expression softened.
The Subject looked across the room and felt pity, not for himself, but for all those babies who would have a hard road ahead, no matter what choices he made. He looked with compassion at the innocent faces and decided that whatever infant he chose, he would try to give that baby the best life possible.
The Grey Man looked at him with respect, the first time he had considered the Subject in that light.
As the Subject animated a slumbering child and the child's eyes opened, the Grey Man muttered, "Good fortune to you. Already you have made a fortuitous choice."
I was in the mood to write a story, and this prompt captured my imagination. Instead of writing a story about only living once, I wrote one about living many lives. As is usual for me, I was contrary :)
The Image at the top of the page was taken from Pixabay.
